


Chrom's Unconventional Wingman

by happy_waffles



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Henry is DEFINITELY a little shit, In short, M/M, and Chrom can be a little shit when he wants to, edit - I added a bit more of Robin's perspective to try to make it real clear, everyone's a little shit lol, robin is a little shit, that he was just being thirsty lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_waffles/pseuds/happy_waffles
Summary: Chrom somehow finds himself getting wingman help from Henry, of all people.





	Chrom's Unconventional Wingman

Robin wears a baggy tank top underneath his robe.

It’s a tidbit of information that should seem trivial and unimportant, but gods. It was information more important to Chrom then he’d cared to admit.

He knew Robin wore a casual shirt underneath—the tactician always had his robe opened, after all—but he didn’t know just how _loose_ it really was.

When Robin had peeled off his robe during this afternoon’s meeting (summer’s heat seemed to be at its most unbearable for the tactician today), Chrom’s attention quickly snapped from the meeting to Robin.

 _Why_ _does_ _he_ _bother_ _wearing_ _a_ _shirt?_   was Chrom’s first thought. _I_ _can_ _see_ _everything_.

Robin’s collarbones were on full display, so Chrom’s second thought was to outline their shape with his eyes. You know, for research.

He’s doing just that when Robin suddenly bends over slightly to point something out to Frederick and Libra on the map, and so Chrom’s eyes snap from Robin’s collarbones to his tank top. His tank top that was currently dipping down to an incredible amount.

He peeks at the dip and is disappointed to find that Robin wears a black shirt underneath his baggy tank top. _Gods_ , _just_ _how_ _many_ _layers_ _does_ _he_ _wear?_ _It’s_ _honestly_ _a_ _wonder_ _that_ _he_ _hasn’t_ _suffered_ _from_ _a_ _heatstroke_ _yet_.

Still, the dip of Robin’s chest peaked through his undershirt, so Chrom wasn’t too displeased.

 _He’s_ _kind of pale_ _there_ , Chrom thinks distractedly, slinging an arm around the chair’s back. _Then_ _again_ , _he’s_ _always_ _wearing_ _so_ _many_ _layers_ , _so_ _most_ _of_ _his_ _skin_ _probably_ _never_ _sees_ _the_ _sun_ …

Chrom’s busy imagining the pale skin underneath all those layers (after he’s disrobed Robin, of course) when someone nudges him rather roughly. It was Lissa.

“Hm?” Chrom’s attention shifts back to the meeting. “What is it?”

“What do you mean ‘what is it’?!” Lissa snaps. “Were you not paying attention? Robin just asked you if you approved of the idea to split the Shepherds into three main forces for the upcoming battle!”

 _Shit_. He definitely wasn’t paying attention.

“Milord, forgive me for saying so, but this is an act unbefitting of a prince,” Frederick admonishes him.

Great. Just great. Now Frederick was on his case.

“Sorry, sorry,” Chrom sighs out, hands up in surrender. “I was busy… _thinking_.”

“Oh, sure,” Lissa says, rolling her eyes. “Because you’re obviously the thinking type.”

He can hear Gaius’ snickering. Even Sumia was giggling behind her hand.

Chrom tries not to blush in embarrassment. Leave it to Lissa to make him look like a fool in front of the other Shepherds.

Meanwhile, Robin seemed to be smiling. “It’s fine,” he tells Lissa and Frederick. “I’ll just start from the top again. And Chrom”—Robin pauses here to look at the exalted prince—“be sure to listen this time.”

There’s something in that smiling look Robin’s giving him that makes Chrom’s heart beat faster.

“Right.” Chrom gulps. “I will.”

Robin flashes him another smile. “Good.”

…

After the meeting ended (and after sitting through another earful from Lissa), Chrom heads back to his tent.

Well, more like he _tries_ to go back to his tent. He’s too distracted thinking about Robin that he ends up in the mess hall. Then stumbles into the barracks. He somehow even finds himself in Henry’s tent.

“Hiya, Chrom,” the Plegian mage cheerfully greets him.

“Uh…hey,” Chrom greets back, a weak smile on his face. (Admittedly, Henry still unnerved him. He was a bit… _odd_. And more than a little bloodthirsty).

“Did you need something?” Henry asks, his back now facing Chrom, his hand busy searching for a tome amid the vast collection resting on the dark-wooden shelves.

“Ah, no, I just…” Chrom mutters. He really doesn’t know how to deal with Henry. Or speak to him. Or do anything with him, really.

“You seem a bit restless.” Henry’s hand pauses on a wine-red tome. It seemed to rest there for a while before he decides to pull it out.

Well, being here in this darkly-lit tent with jars full of Risen body parts and a bubbling cauldron oozing out a murderous purple steam wasn’t exactly relaxing.

But, then again, he’s been in a restless state ever since seeing Robin without his robe.

“Well, maybe a little,” he admits.

“Hmm, I thought so.” Henry starts flipping through the red tome’s pages. “And it’s over Robin, isn’t it?”

“How did you—?!” Chrom sputters, surprised.

Henry laughs softly. “The way you kept staring at Robin during the meeting wasn’t subtle at all.”

 _Ugh_.

“I’m surprised you didn’t feel Tharja’s murderous stare. She really was glaring daggers at you.”

“Well, I was… _busy_.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you were.”

The teasing—from _Henry_ , of all people—was making Chrom’s blush seep into his neck and ears. “Gods, Henry, give me a break.”

“Oh, I will,” Henry says, looking over at the exalted prince with a smile. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”

And then having quickly skimmed the page he finally stopped on, he shuts the red tome close.

Huh?

“I’m not sure what you mea—” Chrom starts to say before he’s cut off by Henry lightly touching his forehead.

And, suddenly, Chrom loses consciousness.

…

“…he just suddenly collapsed in my tent…” (That voice…that must be Henry).

A cool hand brushes against Chrom’s forehead. “He feels really hot…He probably suffered from a heatstroke.” (And that one was Lissa).

“Really, a heatstroke? But he wears so little.” (And that one was definitely Robin).

“Well, that’s my brother for you. Always achieving the improbable.”

Chrom was about to open his eyes and answer back to Lissa’s sarcasm when he hears what she says next.

“But enough about that. Like Henry says, you should stay here with Chrom and cool him off with your magic.”

Whoa, wait. Is this what Henry meant when he said he’d “give him a break”? By acting as Chrom’s _wingman?_

Gods, that’s so embarrassing.

But also kind of sweet of him.

“Yup,” Henry agrees. “That water tome you found last week should come in handy. Although, fair warning: I don’t think it was _just_ a heatstroke Chrom suffered from.”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Lissa asks.

“Well, I was doing some experiments in my tent when Chrom suddenly barged in,” Henry explains—Upon hearing this, Lissa shakes her head. “He’s so careless!” she fumes—“So I’m thinking he’s suffering more from side effects caused by my spell casting. I don’t which one, though, so I’d be careful, Robin.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Robin says cheerfully. “If anything happens, I’ll just knock Chrom out with my own magic.”

“Knock some sense into him to while you’re at it,” Lissa huffs.

Henry just laughs.

Aaaaaand suddenly Chrom fears for his life. Not just from the prospect of Robin coldlessly ripping Chrom’s conciousness away again with his own magic, but also from the mysterious spell Henry casted on him. (Because that part of Henry’s little story definitely wasn’t lie, Chrom knew).

What kind of wingman did that?!

“If anything happens, call for me, ok?” Lissa says before she opens the tent’s flap and leaves.

“And when he wakes up, tell Chrom to watch where he’s going more,” Henry adds, a smile on his face, before following Lissa out.

And then they were alone.

Chrom tries to act asleep, though he’s never been good at acting.

When Robin’s cold hand rests on top his forehead, Chrom can barely maintain his poker face.

 _Gods_. He tries not to twitch. _It’s_ _like_ _my_ _body_ _is_ _on_ _fire_.

He didn’t have this problem with Lissa touching him earlier. In fact, his body didn’t react at all.

Unless…

Henry’s mysterious spell was of a sexual nature…?

 _Oh_ _gods_ , _no_ , Chrom inwardly groans.

He wouldn’t last.

Not with the gentle way Robin was caressing his temples with those cool hands. Those cool hands that felt so _good_ against his burning-hot skin.

Every little rub with those cool fingertips sent shivers down Chrom’s spine. Not mention fuel the flames for his, erm, _lower_ region.

He can’t help but let little sounds escape from his mouth. It was just too much. (Although, thankfully, they sounded more like groans than moans).

But then Robin’s hands pause.

 _Hm?_ Chrom thinks distractedly. _He_ _stopped?_

He’s a little disappointed, but hey. Now maybe he can cool off his arousal for a bit. It’d be a complete nightmare if Robin found out.

“ _Chrom_ …” ((Damn Chrom and his stupid, cute sounds!))

Something about Robin’s voice made Chrom’s heart jump in his throat.

“Chrom, Chrom…” Suddenly, Robin’s rests his forehead against the prince’s stomach. ((Chrom's sweaty, musky scent was comfortable, familiar, and...a huge, huge turn-on for the white-haired tactician. He couldn't help but take in whiffs)). “Chrom…”

Robin starts burying his nose deeper against Chrom’s (stupid) onesie, trying desperately to inhale all of the exalted prince. He wanted more...no, he _needed_ more.

As for Chrom, it was becoming more and more difficult for him to stay still.

Not that he wanted to lay still anymore, not with the way Robin’s voice was dripping with such heavy arousal. His own hands were twitching with the need to touch the tactician.

And then something happens that kills off any composure Chrom had left for good.

Robin _moans_.

 _No_ _way_ …, Chrom thinks, almost salivating. _There’s_ _no_ _way_ _he’s_ _doing_ _what I think_ _he’s_ _doing_ …

But the distinctive scent of a certain bodily fluid—one Chrom was all too familiar with—told him otherwise. The _shlick_ , _shlick_ sounds were a dead giveaway, too.

Robin was jerking himself off. ((All the while cursing himself for doing it so openly in front of the sleeping Ylissean prince)).

Chrom swallows thickly.

 _Is Robin_   _affected_ _by_ _Henry’s_ _spell_ , _too?_  he wonders. _Gods_ , _just_ _what_ _kind_ _of_ _spell_ _is_ _this??_

Not that it mattered.

Right now, Chrom was busy wondering about something else.

That something else namely being Robin.

Without wasting another second, he snakes his hand towards Robin and closes it around the tactician’s moving hand.

Robin lets out a small but heavy gasp.

“You’re…awake…?!”

“I’ve actually been awake for a while now.”

“Damn it, Chrom,” Robin hisses, his face notably red. “You could have kept pretending to be asleep and allowed me to keep _some_ of my dignity. Or, better yet, punched some sense into me!”

“But that wouldn’t be half as fun,” Chrom jokes. _This is my chance_ , is what the exalted prince excitedly thinks to himself as he responds. When he speaks next, Chrom drops the teasing voice in favor of a soft, low one.

“Besides, you’re not the only one feeling aroused here. All your little sniffs and touches were driving me crazy.”

Those words make Robin shudder.

Chrom starts rubbing a thumb against Robin’s hand, the one still near his groin, all the while looking at the tactician with such loving eyes.

“Chrom, wait—” Robin starts, flustered. _This is all happening way too fast_. Just a few moments ago, wasn’t he tending to a sick Chrom? And now he’s going to just jump right into doing questionable things with the man he’s been crushing on for so long?! This seemed like a page right out of Cordelia’s cringey and fast-paced romance novels.

Meanwhile, Chrom brings Robin’s hand to his lips and starts working his way up his arm with soft kisses. “I think of you, too,” he mumbles into the tactician’s warm flesh, “when I’m…you know, doing what _you_ did earlier.”

 _This cheeky bastard…!_ Robin wants to wipe that knowing smirk off of Chrom’s face but he’s too busy melting into the damn prince’s arms. And it certainly doesn’t help that his mind’s reeling from the thought of Chrom touching himself and calling out _his_ name.

“Robin.” Chrom’s lips were now tickling the tactician’s neck. “ _Touch me_.”

 _Shit_ , _shit_ , _shit_. He was practically putty in Chrom’s hands at this point.

Putting aside what little reason he had left—which wasn’t much, to be honest, because for gods’ sake he was jerking off _in front_ of Chrom just a few seconds ago—Robin lets his hands roam around the exalted prince’s body. _Such firm muscles_ , he thinks approvingly.

And having Robin, the man he’s hopelessly fallen for, touch him here and there quickly riled Chrom up. The throbbing near his groan was growing more and more desperate, so much so that he starts biting the tactician’s neck and sucking on the punctured skin.

Robin moans quietly into the prince’s ear, his hot breath making Chrom shudder.

Deciding he wants more access to Robin’s body (for the purpose of leaving even more marks on his tactician’s delicate skin), Chrom starts tugging on Robin’s robe.

“Take this off, already,” he mumbles against Robin’s beating neck. “It’s in the way.”

Robin hastily complies, slipping out of his heavy robe and letting it fall off the bed.

And Chrom is now met with the sight of that baggy tank top again.

The thing that got him into this blessed mess (courtesy of Henry).

He hooks a finger under one of the loose straps and slowly strokes the skin underneath. Robin shivers from the teasing touch.

“You know,” Chrom says, still stroking the skin underneath the strap, “this shirt of yours distracted me during the afternoon meeting.”

“Mmm.” Robin rests his head against his own shoulder, a knowing smile on his face. “I could tell.”

“So you did it on purpose.”

Robin gives a half-hearted shrug, his eyes hooded with smug arousal.

“I like it when your eyes are on me,” he says sensuously against Chrom’s lips.

Oof. That went straight to the exalted prince’s groin.

“Then I won’t ever take my eyes off of you,” Chrom whispers while gently cupping Robin’s face.

“How cheesy,” Robin says, but he still kisses the prince anyway.

…

After his, er, _session_ with Robin ends, the two had fallen asleep together, with Robin snuggling against Chrom’s chest and Chrom resting his chin against Robin’s feathery hair.

Chrom’s not sure how much time has passed, but judging by the quiet atmosphere outside his tent, it must pretty late into the day. Especially since he can’t hear the loudmouth that was Vaike.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps.

 _That must be Lissa_. 

Chrom tries to quickly but gently disentangle himself from Robin. And he did it just in time, because no sooner had he finally released himself from Robin’s death grip when Lissa burst into the tent.

“Chrom,” she says, surprised to see him standing. “You’re awake.” Her eyes shift over to Robin. “Aaand Robin fell asleep, I see.”

“He’s tired from…taking care of me,” Chrom answers, a slight blush on his face.

“Well, you _are_ a handful.”

“Haha, very funny.”

Lissa grins. “I am, aren’t I?”

“In your dreams, maybe.”

“Oh, shutup.” Lissa moves towards Chrom, her hand reaching out towards his forehead. “Hmm…looks like your temperature went down. See? All you needed was some TLC.”

Oh, he got some TLC, alright.

“Oh!” Lissa suddenly says, backing away. “I just remembered—are you still experiencing side effects from Henry’s spell?”

“I don’t know,” Chrom lies, scratching his cheek. “Nothing weird happened while Robin was cooling me off…but I should go check with Henry, just in case.”

He has to go thank the man, after all.

“Good idea,” Lissa agrees. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

…

Chrom pushes Henry’s tent flaps open.

He finds the dark mage waiting for him, calmy sitting with a leg slung over his knee.

“Hiya, Chrom,” he cheerfully says. “Back so soon?”

“I wanted to…thank you,” Chrom tells him, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

“Ooh? So it went well?”

Chrom nods. “It went really…well…” Gods, this was so _embarrassing_.

“That’s good to hear. Glad I could do you a favor.”

“Um,” Chrom starts, a hand running through his hair out of nerves, “if you don’t mind me asking…just what were the spells you casted on me?”

“Oh, that?” Henry says lightly, as if he was talking about the weather. “Well, the first spell I did was a sleeping spell—you know, that time when I touched your forehead and you became unconscious?”

Chrom nods. He remembered.

“Aaand the second spell,” Henry continues, hands out in a ta da! pose, “was… _nothing_ _!_ ”

_Huh?_

“Nothing?” Chrom echoes in disbelief. “But I could have sworn—” _that_ _all that sexual tension was your doing_ , Chrom finishes in his head.

“Whatever happened between you and Robin…that was all Robin and  _your_ doing, not mine,” Henry says with a smirk. “After all, you both were looking at eachother with lustful eyes during the meeting.”

And now Chrom’s sure he’s going to die of embarrassment.

Gods, Henry was more of a teasing devil than an actual wingman!


End file.
